“Achoo!” That was me sneezing by the way, in case you were wondering. I’ve felt rather run down the past couple of days.
In an ideal world, I would be able to stay in bed, or on the sofa, dosed up with medication, a box of tissues for company, and watching children’s television. I’m sorry to say, this is not an ideal world, and it’s one of my busiest times in the office EVER due to the yearly publication. Plus (I may have mentioned this before) my not-so-new boss waltzed off to Australia for a whole month, leaving me to hold the production fort. So I'm soldiering on.
I do realise that people on the trains and in the office must be cursing me and my germs, but I have to ensure the yearly publication is sent to print per schedule.
Mind you, I can’t win at home either, my mother and father keep giving each other worrying looks every time I cough/sneeze/blow my nose. For it was only last night my mother said, “If I catch that, I shall go mad!”
I can’t help being under the weather! Believe me, if I had a choice, I would rather be fighting fit and running a marathon (or maybe I should stick to eating a marathon, ha, ha. (Oh hang on, they're called Snickers bars now. I'm a little behind the times.)
What’s a girl to do? I have to live somewhere, and I have to get my work done. So, pardon my germs, I am trying to keep them to myself.
I've even cancelled two prior engagements. And I never cancel on anyone, even if my leg was hanging off, I would probably still keep my word and show my face.
However, I do realise that a week before Christmas people would prefer you to explain that you have a cold, rather than turn up, sneeze and splutter all over them, and therefore pass your illness on - in time for Christmas day.
So it's vitamin c galore in my house now, and I'm surrounded by lemsips, strepsils and tissues. Crikey, I have just caught a glimpse of my nose in the mirror. You should see the colour of it! You can call me Rudolph (the red nosed reindeer). How festive I look.
Picture of the day: